The royal capital rose from the valley like a crown of stone and gold—towers piercing the clouds, white walls gleaming in the morning sun, and aether currents so thick you could almost see them flowing through the air.
Lyonel pressed his face against the carriage window, his golden eyes wide with wonder as they rolled toward the main gates.
"Aether Logic: Capital aether scan complete," the skill hummed in his mind. "Multiple ley line convergences detected—some stable, some showing early signs of corruption. Primary issue appears to be at the central temple plaza."
Seraphina sat beside him, straightening her red-and-gold robes as they approached the guards. "Remember, Lyonel—these are royal mages. They're used to power being loud and flashy. Your quiet weaving might not impress them at first."
"Loud and flashy is just inefficient," Lyonel grinned, patting the wooden duck at his belt. "Wait till they see what 'quiet' can do."
The gates swung open with a deep groan, revealing cobblestone streets lined with merchants, nobles, and mages in flowing robes. Even here, Lyonel could spot small signs of trouble—wilted flowers in planters, water in the fountains looking slightly murky, and the faint purple tinge of early corruption around the base of a nearby statue.
"See that?" he said, pointing to the statue. "The runes on its pedestal are misaligned. They're supposed to draw clean water from the underground springs, but they're pulling up tainted aether instead."
Before Seraphina could respond, a group of mages in blue-and-silver robes stepped into their path. The leader—an older man with a sharp gaze and gray-streaked hair—crossed his arms over his chest.
"So this is the 'Weave Wizard' we've heard about," he said, his voice dripping with doubt. "A child? The royal court must be desperate if they're calling on toddlers to fix their problems."
Lyonel climbed down from the carriage, his small frame standing straight as he met the mage's eyes. "Toddlers don't know that your 'stable' fire runes are wasting 30% of their power on heat you don't need," he said calmly, pointing to the mage's belt. "Or that the way you're channeling aether is making your headaches worse every day."
The mage's face flushed red, but he said nothing as Lyonel pulled out a small wooden stylus. In three quick strokes, he carved a tiny adjustment rune into the mage's belt buckle. The blue flame on the mage's staff immediately burned brighter and cleaner, and the man winced as tension he didn't realize he was carrying melted away.
"How…?" the mage breathed.
"Aether flows like water," Lyonel said simply. "If your pipes are kinked, nothing moves right. I just straightened them out."
They were escorted to the palace throne room, where the Crown Prince himself waited—along with a circle of the kingdom's most powerful mages. Lyonel's father had warned him about this moment: "They'll test you, Lyonel. Not because they doubt your skill, but because they fear what they don't understand."
"Master Lyonel," the Crown Prince said, standing from his seat. "We summoned you here because our central temple plaza—where we channel aether to purify the entire capital—has begun to fail. Crops are struggling, water is growing tainted, and our mages can't find the source of the corruption."
"May I see it?" Lyonel asked.
The prince led them through winding corridors to the temple plaza—a massive open space with a crystal fountain at its center, surrounded by ancient rune carvings. Even from across the plaza, Lyonel could feel the aether twisting and pulling in wrong directions.
"Aether Logic: Full scan initiated," the skill reported. "Corruption source found—ancient containment rune under the fountain has shifted. It's now reversing the flow, pulling tainted aether into the capital instead of pushing it out."
"The runes are backwards," Lyonel announced, walking toward the fountain. "Whoever last repaired them read the patterns wrong—they flipped the entry and exit points."
One of the royal mages stepped forward angrily. "Impossible! Those runes were carved by the first Spellweavers themselves—they can't be 'backwards'!"
"Can't they?" Lyonel asked, pulling out his tools. "Watch this."
He climbed onto the edge of the fountain and began carving new adjustment runes around the base—small, simple patterns that linked to the ancient ones. As he worked, silver light spread across the plaza, and the fountain's water slowly cleared. Flowers around the edges began to bloom again, and the air itself felt cleaner.
"You didn't rewrite the ancient runes," the Crown Prince said in awe. "You… upgraded them."
"Old doesn't mean perfect," Lyonel said, hopping down from the fountain. "I just added a 'correction layer'—now the runes work like they were meant to, but better. And I added a few extras."
He tapped the fountain stone, and small glowing fish—just like the ones from the village well—swam up from the depths. "They'll monitor the water quality, and if corruption comes back, they'll turn purple. Plus… they're pretty to look at."
The royal mages stood in silence for a moment, then the one who'd doubted him earlier stepped forward and bowed his head. "Weave Wizard… I apologize for underestimating you. You see magic in ways we've forgotten how to."
As the sun set over the capital, painting the sky orange and gold, the Crown Prince placed a hand on Lyonel's shoulder. "Master Lyonel—will you consider staying to help us train our mages in your ways?"
"I'd love to," Lyonel grinned. "But first, I need to get back to my team. The Weave Alliance is just getting started—and there's a whole kingdom out there that needs to learn that magic is for everyone."